


Split Mirror Spirit

by MidnightCarnival



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BAMF mary sue, F/M, NOT a legomance, Rewrite, Symbolism, emotionally repressed ofc, mentions of Arien, metatextual stuff, mix of book and movie, not a sexist Boromir, this is a really bad idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:59:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1663958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightCarnival/pseuds/MidnightCarnival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a experiment (of sorts) to see if I can make a good, original story out of the overdone tenth walker.  Can it be done without making a character so unbelievably bland or overly perfect that you just want to click off and never look back? Heres my swing at it by revising my old suefic from a very long time ago.  </p>
<p>Story Summary: Neveil is a wandering sort, never seeking out battle, glory, nor riches. She simply ends up where she is needed and does what she can to protect the world she finds herself apart of. What happens when an all but forgotten relic from so long ago finally resurfaces? Will Neveil find herself in a position to change her fate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My suggestion would be to take everything in this with a grain of salt. I'll try to make my OFC bearably. Constructive criticism is welcome, just keep it clean. ^_^

All beings of Arda are born with a spirit that is a projection of them. They are free to develop into true characters whether Elf, Human, Hobbit, or Dwarf. They all can all claim that freedom, it is an inherent right of theirs. 

But what if that was not true of others….

It is true; there are those who are not given such a right. Their existence is a mockery of all living things. 

They exist as an extension of a creator’s will, they serve their purpose and nothing more. They never protest or offer judgment. They do not think at all, they do not feel at all, they simply ARE. 

They exist only until they are commanded to die and nothing more. 

The moment they gain a soul is when they no longer exist. At least, in the form they had before.

It is then, that their story begins.


	2. The Turning of a Page

Neveil’s feet are sore as she walks along the small road. Her feet had good reason to be hurting her. She had been traveling from Lake Evendim to Harlindon for four days and had only made it to (judging by a few of the very short local occupants she had seen) somewhere between Hobbiton and the Shire

She was displeased with her pace, but she was unwilling to take a horse since she was terrible with the large beasts and had no hand for animals. Harlindon was a green and fair land that Neveil had planned to travel to for years and was eager to arrive and enjoy the comparatively quiet shores. 

Neveil traveled lightly. She had no pack, only a pouch on her belt that held bowstring, string for snares and flint for fires and bandages, needle, and thread for any potential harm she came across. Her hatchet sat snugly against the pouch and her sword sat on her left hip, ready to draw if needed. The dark greens and browns of her tunic, boots, cloak, and pants allowed her to blend into the forrest if needed. 

The late day sun beat down on Neveil and sweat was beading on the back of Neveil's neck causing her to stick to her skin, she wished she had cut it short when she had the opportunity.

Neveil was taking a moment to enjoy the shade of sheer hill and drink from her water skin before setting off once more when she was suddenly knocked flat on her face by a heavy mass falling down the hillside. All the air was pushed from her lungs and startled her into groping for her weapon, her face and front pressed uncomfortably into the damp earth and smearing it across her. 

Neveil kicked out from under the weight, which protested at her action. Once free she pulled her hatchet in hand and ready, twisting around to defend herself if necessary when she sees that its four hobbits that had landed on top of her. While Neveil tries to make a point to look for danger everywhere, she has a hard time thinking that a group of hobbits groaning in pain in the dirt and a spilled sack of vegetables gripped in one of their hands means her any harm. 

Neveil huffs in discomfort as she futilely rubs at the dirt on her face and returns her hatchet to its place on her belt. She felt a bump forming along her forehead and grunts in annoyance at the throbbing pain.

The curly blond haired hobbit that had landed atop her legs (and she had kicked if the rubbing of his ribs is any indication) lifts his head out of the dirt and looks at her with a properly abashed expression. "Look Merry, a lady." He says while the others work themselves to their feet and begin to right their packs and turn to Neveil with various words of apology for falling on top of her.

"Well I can see that Pip." Says another hobbit sarcastically and looks like he could be the others twin, though there are enough differences in their features and a small difference in height that it is more likely to be a more distant relation. 

"Sorry about that miss. We didn't aim to fall on you any more than we had to fall at all." Says the stouter of the rabble before me with a cautious light in his eye but an apologetic expression on his features as he takes my hand in greeting. 

"My name is Sam. Those two ruffians are Merry and Pippin." He says pointing to the two who are now busying themselves with the picking of mushrooms. "And that's F-Mr. Underhill." He says, gesturing to the darker haired of the lot. 

Neveil raises a brow at his correction but does not comment as she looks to Underhill who has stepped towards her.

"Are you hurt at all?" He asks, his eyes alight with concern as he took in the rapidly forming bruise on her forehead and the mud tarnishing her pale face and hair, he even swore there were a few leaves and twigs tangled in the loosely braided locks.

"Nothing to be concerned about. I am Neveil, if there are to be introductions." she says to the dark haired Hobbit. He seems pleased with her answer and nods to her before moving to look down the road with some disconcertion.

"I think the cabbages are a total loss.." Pippin bemoans as he works to return the bruised and battered vegetables to the sack.

The Hobbit called Underhill whispers something quietly in a fearful tone and Neveil narrows her eyes as a chill runs down her spine and her hair stands on end. Sam seems to have felt it as well, as he too is looking on edge, however, it is not to the degree of Underhill.

"What is it?" Neveil asks Underhill quietly as she moves to stand beside where he is staring down the road with wide eyes.

A familiar cloying cold air seemed to whisk around them out of nowhere, the air even smells cold and rotten and an unnatural shadow seems to fall across them. Neveil had felt this feeling before and her eyes widened as her hand grasped her sword handle, as useless as she knew the weapon would be against what was coming. "Get off the road!" Underhill shouts to his fellows in terror and Neveil moves to help them shuffle underneath a large tree-root, too small for herself to hide beneath. 

"No matter what you hear or see, be silent and still." Neveil whispers quickly to them as the sound of heavy hoof beats become clearer, a clear command in her voice. The hobbits look at Neveil with wide confused fearful eyes all but Underhill who has his eyes firmly shut and hands clenched. Seeing that they are properly hidden and out of time, Neveil quickly moves to a large oak and spins pressing her front up against its rough bark not a moment too soon. She grasps her sword and works on stilling her shaking limbs.  
'breath, breath' she whispers to herself and slowly her shaking arms is reduced to shaking fingers which she clenches upon her sword pommel. The air grows colder, and the forest falls eerily silent, birds and animals hiding themselves from whatever evil they feel. The only sound left is her heart beating in her ears and she prays the creature that comes cannot hear it. Neveil strains to listen and after a moment, the sounds of a horses hooves against packed earth reaches her ears. 

Peering around the tree she sees the terrible sight that she had hoped never to see for the rest of her days.  
Black tattered cloth hangs from its form as it brings the black beast on which it sits to a stop. Sickly dark blood drips off of the horses legs onto the earth thickly, revealing its dark and unnatural nature. It is then that it turns its head, reveling the utter black void beneath its shroud and Neveil feels an unnatural terror she has not felt in many years after only a her brief glance. She immediately looks away, pressing a hand to her heart as though that may still its beating. 

Her fingers tremble even as she grips the bark from the terror she has felt (and indeed still feels) enter her very bones as the wrenched thing climbs down from its steed on the spot where not a moment before, the Hobbits and herself had been standing. Neveil's eyes widen in fear for the halflings.

It inhales deeply, Smelling she realizes, before coming to kneel heavily above the four Hobbit's hiding place. Neveil can see its metal gloved hands close around the tree root and the Hobbits press further into their hiding place as it continues to sniff them out. 

Neveil briefly contemplates running. Fighting this creature is pointless, it cannot die and she has no fire, the only true defense against it, to use. She could not have a hope of defeating one alone. Neveil could easily escape from it while it made off with the Halflings. It clearly was drawn to them or else it would have carried on.  
But could she really abandon anyone, even strangers to such a fate? Shame at her own cowardice filled her, nearly as great as the terror that the Wraith had instilled in her. 

Her decision is made. 

Neveil pokes her head around the tree and makes eye contact with the frighted Hobbits. She lifts a stone in her hand and their eyes alight with understanding.

With the Hobbits hopefully understanding the plan, Neveil brings back her arm and throws the stone as far from them as possible.

The wraith lets out a terrible cry and bolts toward the sound at an unnatural speed. Thankfully allowing the Hobbits take their chance to escape into the trees, Neveil following at their heels.

The Hobbits ran quickly and for a long time, clearly disturbed by their encounter with the Wraith. Neveil followed them easily till dark until they finally stop in their exhaustion. The one called Sam jumps up despite his exhaustion when she steps out of the darkness, him placing himself between her and the mister Underhill. She raises a brow at the bravery of this Hobbit to prepare to fight someone twice his size and armed. 

"You followed us?" Underhill questions, and she nods an affirmation to his obvious question.

"You have no weapons." She states blandly, "and you clearly do not understand what follows you."

"Well, if you are so knowledgeable on the topic, would you mind telling us what that was?" Pippin asks breathlessly and looks up wearily from his spot on the ground. Neveil calculates for a moment whether or not to tell them before discarding the notion completely and just coming out with it rather bluntly, kneeling down with them in the bushes.

"A Wraith is what hunted you. A servant of the Dark Tower that no mortal man can defeat." Neveil says this seriously, her eyes drifting to the distant road as she pulls her hood over her head to block out the light drizzle of rain that had began to fall. 

“What are they looking for?” Merry asks as loud as he dares. Pippin answers.

“They’re looking for something, or someone.” He says, looking pointedly at Underhill.

"Will you help us?" Sam demands to Neveil, looking at the sword clenched in her hand. 

"Yes." She whispers, the answer comforting all the Hobbits present. At least they had someone skilled with a sword with them now.

"Get down!" Either Merry or Pippin says a bit too loudly for her liking but they all drop none the less just as the Wraith passes by on the road. Neveil grasped the pommel of her sword, trying to quiet her hard breaths.

"Sam and I need to get to Bree." Underhill whispers hurriedly to Pippin, fear and urgency evident in his voice. Pippin nods immediately, understanding the seriousness of the situation.

"Buckle Berry Ferry." He says and motions for us to follow. As soon as we leave the trees however, a great cry fills the air, and the Wraith rides into the midst of us. Immediately Neveil draws her sword, moving to divert the wraith’s attention to her. All the while fighting a battle with the terror pulling at her. 

The Wraith diverts its attention to Neveil, the more immediate threat to itself to retrieve the Hobbits. Its great and terrible sword slide seamlessly out of its sheath with an audible sound. In one clean quick motion it swung at her neck. Thankfully, Neveil is quick, skilled and nimble, not a fumbling youth with a dull blade, and Neveil quickly drops down and away from the strike that would have take her head. The wraith is not dissuaded and it immediately angles its sword down in a strike to disembowel her while the Hobbits hurry for the ferry. Neveil spins out of the way and drags her sword against the wraiths, mounts legs in the same motion causing it to rear up in anger with a great shriek.

A fight with a Wraith is the most foolish thing possible. All you can do is block their attacks for no mortal weapon can harm them. Even worse, if your blade ever touches the flesh of their leader, the Witch King, you will have only just enough time to watch your blade become dust on the wind before they lop off your head or worse…They stab you with a morgul blade.

Hoping she had given the Halflings enough time to make for the ferry and unwilling to continue her impossible fight, Neveil slashes at the Wraith’s mount once more, cutting it deep in the flank and causing it to give another loud cry. Forced to leave her back to the creature, she spun on her heel and took off running for the water. If the Hobbits had already launched the ferry, she can simply dive into the waters where the wraith cannot follow. Neveil feels the cold breath of the wraiths unnatural mount on her back, pushing her to run faster. The Wraith lets out an enraged sounding cry at his escaping quarry. 

She does not dare look back, but she knows it is at her heels. 

She comes into view of the water and sees that the Hobbits had in fact launched the ferry and Neveil is relived that they had not waited for her.

The hobbits yell to her from the ferry to hurry, and Neveil can imagine the wraiths sword posed to skewer her should she falter a single step.

With a desperate cry, she launches herself from the dock and into the water. The cold nearly shocks the air from her lungs and even underwater, the Wraith's shrieks are audible.

Neveil kicks for the surface, her sword weighing her down a bit, taxing her tired muscles further as her head breaks the surface with a gasp and she can hear the Hobbits exclaiming in relief about a foot in front of her.

"Reach for my hand, Neveil!" she hears Sam's voice and with a few more moments she is close enough to grasp his comparatively warm hand and with the rest of their help, she is hauled, a sodden heap, onto the wooden ferry. 

"We didn't know if you were-" Underhill says haltingly, his hand still clenched on her shoulder, based on the other Hobbit's expressions, they all worried similarly. 

"I'm well." Neveil's voice shakes from the cold of the water still, "I'm alright."

"How far to the nearest crossing?" Underhill asks Pippin as Neviel peels off her sodden cloak to keep from becoming too cold. Her keen eyes watch as the Wraith kicks its horse to hurry around the body of water.

Pippin, also keeping his eyes on the Wraith responds, "Brandy Wine Bridge, Twenty miles." Neveil feels no relief at his words. What is twenty miles of travel for creatures such as those? Neveil quietly watches the wraith join the other nine as she is pushed further into the dangerous unknown with four Halfling strangers.


	3. Chapter 2

'I will leave them as soon as we arrive in Bree, and wash my hands of them' Neveil thought to herself as she and the group of Hobbit's walked towards the settlement of Bree, moving quickly and quietly alongside the road. 

They were wet, tired, and fearful from the ill-fated journey. The Hobbit's all walked close to one another, shoulders bumping and heads bowed under the downpour from overhead. Neveil herself, could not bring herself to be too concerned with rain as she trudged over the sodden landscape, hand tight over her sword. 

Oh, Neveil knew what creatures hunted these Shire Folk. She could not lay claim to blessed ignorance like they could. One does not so easily purge their mind of such knowledge, no matter how they would like to forget it. She also knew what their reappearance signified. Neveil swallowed hard and her eyes darted about, looking for foul shapes in the night. 'No', Neveil tried to sooth her thoughts, 'no, he was destroyed utterly and completely.”

She knew that was a lie and it did nothing to comfort her in the face of the Wraiths reappearance. 

The town of Bree became visible and the group's spirits lightened greatly at its sight but the Hobbits still only spoke quietly amongst themselves as they approached the cities gates, wary of all that found its home in the shadows of the night. 

They approached the gate, still off the road and obscured by the bushes and trees, the heavy rain drowning out their movements. 

“Remain here.” Neveil said curtly as she stepped out into the road and slowly made her way towards the town gate. Her keen eyes darted about and ears pricked for any sign of dark hooded figures or the heavy footfalls of horses hooves. Unfortunately, the same rain and darkness that obscured herself and the Hobbits obscured the wraiths all the same and Neveil could detect nothing as she stood in the mud of the road, her boots slowly filling with rain and muck. 

With a shake of her head that sent the wet colds strands of her hair out of her face, she made her way back to the crouched shivering Hobbits. 

“Any sign of them?” Sam asked as soon as she crouched down with them again in their impromptu cover, his breath coming out misty from the cold rain. 

“None.” Neveil responded, knowing who he meant by ‘Them’. 

“Then if we mean to enter Bree, now is as good a time as ever.” Merry stated bravely, straightening from where he was crouched and making towards the gate to Bree, only faltering for a single moment before stepping onto the road. Neveil could not help but think him brave, despite it being only a small action before filtering in behind the procession of Hobbits, bringing up the rear. 

As Underhill moved to knock upon the heavy wood gate, her hand strayed to her sword. Just in case, and her eyes scanned the darkness diligently until they had all filtered behind the comforting wooden walls of Bree. 

Even though Neveil knew that they would not slow down Sauron's forces for a single moment.


	4. Chapter 3

“This is where I leave you.” Neveil stated bluntly once they reached the door to the Prancing Pony. Her statement brought the Hobbits up short. 

“You’re leaving?” Sam asked, a bit incredulously. 

Neveil nodded, “Yes, I have overstayed too long and I have my own journey to undertake.” 

“To where?” Pippen challenged, “Surely no where so pressing that we cannot repay you with a cup of something to drink?”

“And you’re soaked through.” Merry added, taking in her drenched appearance. “Frankly, we all are.” He said, wringing out water from the corner of his cloak as though to demonstrate. 

Underhill nodded, “I agree, it wouldn't be right for us to send you off like this. Allow us to repay you with a hot meal and drink and dry off.” He squinted up through the rain, it doesn't appear that this rain will let up soon anyway and after all your help...it would be wrong to send you off like this.” 

Neveil frowned at their (admittedly) sound arguments. The last thing she wanted was to be further involved in anything that had to do with Mordor, Sauron, or any foul things in this world. 

But like all living things in this world, Neveil was subject to the discomforts of life and she was admittedly cold, wet, tired, and hungry and the warm light and smells from inside the inn were having more of an effect on her than she would have liked. 

‘I truly am a much more base creature than my intended design.’ Neveil thought sardonically, letting out an audible sigh and bowing her head in agreement to the Hobbits.

“After you then.” I say, gesturing towards the door. Underhill gives me a smile and Merry pats my hand before we all usher through the door into the inviting light. 

Underhill is the one to lead us to the front desk “Excuse me.” Frodo begins, but not catching the inn-keepers attention over the din of the busy inn. 

“Inn-keeper!” I call over the din, loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to be seen as quite rude. The mans attention turns towards our group, frowning a bit at the puddles we are leaving on his floor. 

“Hello little masters and lady.” The man says with a hit of curiosity directed at me in his face. Neveil felt a bit of amusement at that. They must be an unusual grouping. “May I have a name for the book?” He continued. 

 

“Underhill, my name’s Underhill.” Underhill says a bit haltingly causing Neveil to raise an eyebrow and the inn-keeper to look less than convinced. 

“We’re here for Gandalf the Grey, can you tell him we've arrived?” Underhill continued, pulling Neveil up short. They were meant to meet an Istari? 

The bartender looked confused at the request and began to mutter “Gandalf, Gandalf….” Underhill is just begining to look uncomfortable when a look of recognition dawned on the mans face. 

“Oh yes! Elderly chap? Big grey beard, pointy hat?” he questioned as Underhill nodded his head in affirmation to his questions and a relieved expression on his face, but with the bartenders next comment the relief promptly faded. 

“Haven’t seen him in six months.” 

The Hobbits all look lost and Underhill utters a quiet “thank you” to the innkeeper before shuffling off to one of the tables, Sam following quickly behind him. 

This was problematic. All plans of leaving left Neveil’s mind seeing that their friend, an apparent Istari, was not where he promised to be. It was one thing to leave them when she had thought they had a plan and friend in place, but now that those plans had dissolved leaving them with nothing and in great danger...

“Did you need anything miss and sirs?”

The inn-keepers words startle Neveil out of her musings and she silently pulled out her coin-purse. 

“How much for a room with two beds?” Neveil asked, her mind made up to remain with the Hobbits until she could at least remove them from the immediate danger or their friend Gandalf arrived.   
The room settled, Merry and Pippen went off to procure food and drink and Neveil settled in with the Underhill and Sam, her eyes scanning the room quickly for anything out of the ordinary. 

Seeing nothing that she would not expect from an Inn, she settled in the hard wood chair and place her hand on Underhills shoulder. 

“I have gotten a room for you all for tonight. I shall keep watch over the night and gods willing, your friend shall be here come morning.” Neveil says a bit stiffly, uncomfortable with the situation she had found herself in. 

“I suppose things could be worse Master Frodo,” Sam says and Neveil noted the first name, ‘Frodo Underhill’ a very Halfling sounding name if she had ever heard one, though she had not known many Halflings. “At least we have a Lady Neveil to help us until Gandalf arrives.”

“He should have been here days ago, Sam. Something is wrong.” Frodo said darkly, hands tightly clenched in disconcertion. 

Sam opened his mouth to say something more, an attempt to comfort his friends fears Neveil guessed, when Merry and Pippin returned with drinks for the table, though Pippin soon left again in search of a larger beverage, allowing them a moment of distraction in the warming spirits. The moment does not last long before Sam frowns at someone over Neveil’s shoulder. 

“That fellow’s done nothing but stare at you since you can in.” Sam said to Frodo, his tone suspicious. Neveil could not turn to look without appearing obvious so she turned to Sam. 

“Describe him to me.” She said, casually taking a drink of the ale and tucking a still damp strand hair behind her ear.

“Scruffy, wearing a dark cloak and smoking a pipe in the corner. I can't make out his face with his hood.” Sam described as Neveil nodded. 

“You are under my protection.” Neveil stated simply.

Frodo called over the bar owner, and they learn that the name is a supposed ranger named Strider. 

A ranger? Neveil thought. She could not imagine he would be a problem now, despite the warnings the inn-keeper gave them, she knew rangers as good folk, if a bit ruthless at times. 

Regardless, Frodo seems further disconcerted, his hands fiddling on his lap. 

“Ignore the inn-keeper, Frodo. Rangers are good folk.” Neveil said, trying to comfort the Halfling, but his expression is a thousand miles away. 

Neveil is about to say something further when a voice cuts through her thoughts. 

“Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins! Frodo Baggins!” Pippin proclaimed to the crowd. 

‘Baggins?’ Neveil thought as Frodo launched himself out of his chair and toward Pippin with surprising speed, his smaller size easing his passage through the crowd. 

Neveil looked to Sam in question before rising to follow after the Hobbit, though her passage through the crowd was significantly slower. 

Neveil was able to make her way through the drunken slobbering mass just in time to see Frodo Vanish. Neveil’s eyes widen hugely as she freezes at the sight. How could he have-

The patrons around her gasped at the shocking sight, but thankfully went back to their business when they see Frodo emerge from under a table. Thinking he simply crawled under instead of vanishing out of thin air. . 

Letting out a breath of relief at his reappearance Neveil hurried toward Frodo where he was leaning heavily against the staircase and breathing hard. 

Apparently she was not the only one making her way towards the Halfling, she noted the hooded Ranger from earlier had during the commotion risen from his seat and also worked his way towards the halfling. 

Neveil tucks one of the dart knives from my belt against her wrist, ready to use if need be. 

Just as the rangers hand clasps around Frodo’s shoulder, Neveil’s hand clasps tightly around his wrist.


End file.
